Seven Sins
by 20Iolaire02
Summary: There is a correlation between Tom's Horcruxes and the seven deadly sins.


_Sloth_

The diary is his first. It is not his first sin, for he has lied and stolen and hurt others for the fun of it. So it is not his first sin, but it is still the first; this time, it is deadly. It is almost an afterthought; he hasn't done any of the work here. He has relayed orders from the shadows, and he has allowed others to do his dirty work. In a way, he has reached this point by being lazy.

He sees the Mudblood's body strewn across the floor, and it is almost too easy. He has achieved immortality quite by accident. No one was supposed to die; that was never his intention. And yet, it seems as though he is fated to shred his soul - he has been handed this dead girl. She is dead because of his actions - because of his inaction - and he has not made any effort to actually kill someone.

His dirty work has been done for him, and he walks away with a full stomach and half a soul and no regrets. He has worked hard all his life; why shouldn't he let the world do his work for him for once. He deserves to rest, and he can, now that his fears have been assuaged.

_Envy_

The ring is next. Mrs. Cole would say that he has sinned again, that thievery is not a trait that belongs to good people. He has never claimed to be a good person, and he stands in front of his father and his grandmother and his grandfather, and he thinks that it's not fair.

He deserves to be loved, deserves to be wanted and cherished. They have denied him what he deserved as a child. He tries to tell himself that he doesn't care, but he looks into his grandmother's eyes, which glisten with love when she looks at her husband and her son.

The truth is, he is jealous. He is jealous that he never had this, is jealous that _they _have. His half-a-soul quivers in jealousy when he looks at this happy family. They should have been his; they refused him though.

His envy fuels his rage; it is enough for three flashes of green to leap toward his not-family's bodies. And they all fall down.

He lets his eyes feast upon the fallen form of his reluctant, bitter father, and he walks away from the Manor. He is another half-a-soul lighter, and a Memory Charm falls from his lips.

Now he has nothing to be jealous of; death is not something to envy, and neither is prison. It is easy to walk away from the shattered remnants of his unwilling family.

_Greed_

Hogwarts is in his past; he spends his days scouting for treasure. The foolish woman leads him right to it, and he _wants_.

He is reluctant to leave the glittering gold lying against dark velvet, but he knows that he will see it again soon.

He is plagued by thoughts of it at night, during the day; it glimmers mockingly in his mind's eye. It is all he can think of, so he returns in the dead of night. She is asleep, so he searches for it; he is too loud, too careless, and he wakes the House Elf up. The stupid thing tries to stop him, so he deals with it.

Then, he makes his way to her room. He makes sure that she is awake; he wants to see the fear in her eyes. He whispers an incantation, and she collapses against her pillows. The image she makes is almost peaceful, and he stands watching her still form for far too long.

Another Memory Charm removes the blame from his shoulders, and as he closes the front door behind him, he whispers, _keep your treasures close to your heart_, and locks the door.

He stands on the front porch of the ancient house, listens to the wind beat against the beams holding the place up, and stares down at the golden cup that glistens innocently in his hands. He will keep his soul close.

_Wrath_

The locket is a convenient accident. He is overcome with anger, and a man drops to the ground in front of him. He nearly trips on the carcass, and the toe of his boot cracks against the man's skull.

He can't help himself; his rage is too potent. It is something he has noticed; the more he protects himself, the less control he has.

He is being irrational, and that just makes his mood plummet further. He darkens and distorts. He burns the body, and tosses the ashes into the brittle wind.

The locket around his throat burns and grows heavier, digging into the tender skin of his neck. The bite of pain clears his mind, and he stands from his stooped position, plasters a smile onto his face, walks away.

_Lust_

He stumbled across the thing years ago. He pulls it out and remembers a story told by a lonely ghost of a girl. He puts the circlet on, and it glitters like midnight and stars against the neat ink of his hair.

He takes it off, and feels no different.

He forgets about the thing for a while, until he brings a girl home. He wants her, but she looks at him with something like hatred in her eyes.

He almost doesn't think about it, almost doesn't realize what he's doing, but he makes her tea. She drinks it from a cracked mug that looks to be on the edge of shattering. He watches the look in her eyes change from hate to desire and he leaps.

After, she lies bruised and bloody and broken. Her body litters the floor, and he squats beside her, placing the glittering diadem on her head. He is no better than his mother, but he can't quite bring himself to care. There is something missing, and it is not the piece of him that glints coldly on her head.

He snatches it from her corpse, places it back on his own head. He takes it off, and feels no different. Whatever it is that he's lost cannot be fixed by an ancient artifact, even if it does house a piece of his splintered soul.

_Pride_

It is an accident.

There is a flash of green, and he is stepping over a body. There is screaming and begging, there is desperation in emerald eyes. There is the hint of a promise lingering in the air.

He steps over another body, and silence surrounds him. He knows that two words will seal his fate; he will become undefeatable. Nothing and no one will be able to stop him. Something swells in his chest; he has nearly reached his goal.

With only two words, he will become the most famous wizard to walk the Earth. Satisfaction coils through his veins; how can he possibly lose; his final opponent is an infant and poses no significant threat. His fate is set in stone; he has won this battle - he has won this war.

He nearly shouts the incantation, and he watches as the flash of green ricochets toward equally green eyes.

Horror overtakes him when his spell bounces back at him and tears him apart. He shatters, and the pain is unlike anything he has experienced.

This is not the way things were supposed to go.

_Gluttony_

He is spoon-fed Nagini's milk when it occurs to him. He can make it so that he never has to give the snake up. She will do as he pleases, she will bring him everything he desires.

Already, their shared language encourages her to obey, but he wants more. He desires an unbreakable connection, and he will have it.

He almost resorts to using Wormtail, but then the sod gets careless, and his victim comes right to him.

He has always had a way with words, and he enjoys the torment he causes the Muggle, wishes it could go on forever. But he has more important things to do, and so the Muggle collapses in a flash of green.

Nagini coils up next to him lovingly, and the rat discards the Muggles remains. He strokes her scales, and he wishes again for the power that accompanies a flash of green. He wishes again for Nagini's milk.


End file.
